


As We Stand On the Bridge of Destiny

by theonehewaitsfor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Betrayal, Danger, Death, F/M, Guardian - Freeform, Lies, Love, Lust, Ministry, Ministry of Magic, Partnership, Protection, Romance, Secrets, Truth Searching, department of mystery, relationship, unspeakable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonehewaitsfor/pseuds/theonehewaitsfor
Summary: As she's cleaning out her parents' home, Hermione Granger stumbles upon documentation that she was adopted by her parents. Upon her return to work at the Ministry of Magic, the young witch begins her search for her father. Little does she know of the danger that she will enter into on the journey. Severus Snape is the one to protect her from that danger, having vowed years earlier to protect her. But can he protect her from the truth?





	1. Chapter 1

1995

“Severus, are you sure about this?” Professor Minerva McGonagall questioned, her eyes folded downward with concern. The Headmaster’s office was dimly lit, only aglow with a few candles. Professor Albus Dumbledore stepped forward, extending his right hand. Professor Severus Snape did the same, interlocking hands with the headmaster.

Minerva’s wand extended, the pair twisted their hands, thus locking them in the spell.

“Will you, Severus Tobias Snape, watch over Hermione Jean Granger until the day you die?”

“I will.”

A lighted cord, glowing red, wound around the two men’s arms.

“Will you obey the Marriage Law Act and enter into a legally binding relationship to shield her from a far more violent destiny?”

“I will.”

Another strand wove around, a red hot wire trapping in the spell.

“And, to the best of your ability, protect her from any and all harm?”

“I will.”

A third and final string curled and then lit their hands up in a bright fiery display. Severus and Albus stepped away from each other, the younger man’s head hung low.

“I know this was not how you wished your life to be, but the girl must be protected at all costs.”

“It’s what needs to be done.”

“Severus-”

“No one must know.”

* * *

1999

Among the scattered trees stood the silhouette of a young woman, golden sunlight sparkling around her. Soon, the sun would set, and there would be nothing to separate her from the woods around her. Hermione Granger supported herself with her palm against the rough bark, her chest heaving. The breath escaping from her lips curled as it vaporized, October cold saturating the air. She regained her strength, stumbling out to the edge of the trees, her feet dragging in the sand of the beach. Plummeting to the ground, Hermione crawled towards the sea, waves lapping up onto the shore. Finally, she reached the water, and the girl collapsed.

“I said first one to the water wins! They don’t collapse!” Ginny Weasley exclaimed breathlessly, bent over with her hands on the shelves of her knees.

“I’m so out of shape it’s not even funny,” Hermione moaned as she came to her feet, her whole body nearly limp. “How do you do it? You make it look so easy.”

“I think about how badly I want that bit of cake back at the house.”

Hermione smoothed the silky chestnut hair from her face. “You mean to tell me you think of food when you’re exercising?”

Ginny shrugged her shoulders, her lips twisted into a sheepish grin. She gestured for Hermione to head back, and the girls began their trek back to the house. The Australian country held a wide array of beauty for the girls to explore: a spread of trees and forestry behind the house in which Hermione’s parents had lived. Just beyond the woods was the beach, private and secluded, in which the girls had spent several afternoons during their trip.

“How much more have we got to sort through?” Ginny asked as they entered the house, stepping into the kitchen for cold water. Hermione drank hers down, setting the glass in the sink as she wiped her mouth. Her upper lip was damp with beads of sweat, as was the rest of her.

“I think just the office and we’ll be ready for the movers tomorrow.” She responded, gathering the hair at her neck and holding it up so she could fan herself. “Before I forget, thank you for coming with me to help with the arrangements.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Ginny replied, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her friends sweaty forearm. “I’m proud of you for being able to do this. It would have taken me much longer if it were my parents.”

Hermione and Ginny dispersed, both heading to shower before meeting back together in the office to sort through the last of her parents’ things. Ginny sat on the floor, searching through the file cabinet to divide out important papers versus garbage. Hermione was positioned with her legs crossed in the desk chair, rummaging through the desk. As she finished all the other drawers, she began to reach into the top left drawer, but found it locked. Befuddled, she pulled on the wooden knob once again.

“This one’s locked.”

“It’s probably important files or something,” Ginny hummed absentmindedly, turning her attention back to the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. Hermione withdrew her wand, muttering the unlocking spell and watching the drawer pop open. Inside, she found a few important documents of her parents, including copies of their passports and birth certificates. Just as Hermione picked up the last of the files, she noticed something. In the bottom of the drawer, one of the corners had a piece of paper peeking out from beneath it. Reaching down and withdrawing the thin parchment carefully, Hermione’s mouth fell open.

Her ears pulsed, ringing loudly with the flow of her blood. Nausea swept through her, a cool icy sensation that gave her goose flesh.

“What is it?” Ginny questioned, climbing to her feet to stand behind Hermione.

“I’m adopted.”


	2. Two

?What do you mean you’re adopted?”

“It says here, Hermione Bastian, birthday 19th of September, 1979. Who am I?”

Tears welled in her eyes, the look of disbelief upon her face. A shaking hand reached up and covered her gaping mouth, salt water spilling over the rims of her eyelids.

“That’s rubbish. Let me see,” Ginny started, snatching the piece of parchment out of Hermione’s hand. “We’ll bring it to my father and he can ask someone at the Ministry to authenticate it.”

“No!” Hermione shouted, her arm shooting out to grab the form. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“But it’s probably not even real! Don’t you know the Bastian family?”

“Only one of the most prominent pureblood lineages in wizarding history. But look, it’s real. Look at the way the paper shimmers--it’s enchanted, Gin.” Hermione came to her feet with a sigh, flicking her wand across the room. The boxes began to fold in on themselves and then floated to stack together in the corner.

Ginny looked around and then finally up at Hermione, her mouth agape. “I’m guessing that means we’re done here.”

“We have to get back… Now. I have to ask someone about this. If it means that I’m a Bastian, this changes everything.”

“Just let me ask my da-”

“No, Ginny! Please. I’ll handle this. But in the meantime, tell no one. Promise?” Hermione had stepped out of the room, entering the spare bedroom. She flipped around, grasping Ginny’s wrist to get her attention.

“Of course!”

“This could be dangerous for me. If the Bastians find out that they’ve got an illegitimate child on their hands…” Hermione lead off.

* * *

Hermione fiddled with her quill, spinning it around in her fingers. It was five minutes until her workday ended and she could hardly sit still. In just a few minutes she would be standing in the Headmistress’ office at Hogwarts, speaking with someone that could answer her most pressing questions.

A week had passed since the girls discovered Hermione’s birth certificate at her parents’ house in Australia. In that time, the girl had nearly destroyed the document several times. First, lighting the bloody thing on fire, the next shredding it, and finally, ripping it into a thousand pieces and let it flutter into the wind. Instead, she kept it in a safe place in which no one would ever find it. That day, however, she brought it to work, ready to show that evening.

Upon her arrival at Hogwarts, she made her way through the main part of the castle, her heels clacking on the stone floor. Hermione dressed sharply in a powder blue, sleeveless sheath dress and a pair of nude pumps. Her khaki trench coat was draped over her arm, her leather purse dangling on her wrist held the birth certificate.

“Tumbling Tillywinders.” Hermione spoke at the statue, it spinning to reveal the staircase in which she had gone up many times.

“Oh goodness!” Headmistress McGonagall announced as Hermione stepped into the large open space. “It’s wonderful to see you. You look radiant.”

The younger witch grinned and watched as McGonagall approached from behind her desk. “I appreciate you allowing me here.”

“Anytime you wish to speak to him, you’re welcome. Would you like privacy?”

“If you don’t mind,” Hermione stepped out of the way of the staircase.

“It’s quite alright. I will do some surprise rounding and see if I can catch any students where they’re not supposed to be!” Minerva giggled, lifting her skirts to step down the stairs. Hermione dropped her coat and bag in a purple velvet chair just before the wall of portraits. She withdrew the document and stepped over in front of the stone.

“Professor?” She asked, looking up at Albus Dumbledore, his head turned, speaking to one of the portraits next to him.

“Who’s there? Is that Miss Hermione Granger?” He narrowed his eyes, adjusting the half-rim glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“It is, professor. I… I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

“Absolutely. Please.” He waved his hand in a flourish, inviting her to proceed.

She let out a heavy sigh, clenching her eyes shut for a brief moment before reaching into her satchel. Withdrawing the document, she held it up in front of the portrait.

“This document shows that I’m not who I thought I was.”

The portrait squinted his eyes, his back hunched as he peered at the document. Hermione stepped forward, her arm erect as the piece of paper lifted in the light breeze of the room.

“Ah. Yes… _This_.” Professor Dumbledore nodded, interlacing his fingers and lowering them out of view. “Are you certain you want to know the truth?”

“All of it!” Hermione jumped at the opportunity, her voice a sharp edge.

“Very well, then. Your mother, as you very well may know, was a Bastian.”

Hermione had just started to back into a nearby arm chair to settle in for the story when she came to an abrupt stop. Her head jerked upwards, her eyelids peeled back from her round orbs. “My _mother?_”

“Your mother, Aurelia Bastian, one of the brightest witches in the history of magic.”

“I’ve read about her.”

“Yes, she came to me, nearly a year after she’d finished at Hogwarts, terrified. She was with child, you of course, and was in need of help. In my due diligence, aided Aurelia and you were born a few months later.”

“Who’s my father?”

“Tsk, we’ll get there.” Professor Dumbledore raised his index finger to silence the girl. He continued slowly, as if there weren’t another care in the world. Then, she realized there wasn’t another care. Professor Dumbledore was dead and nothing in the outside world was pertinent to him any longer.

The professor proceeded. “I arranged your adoption, to Mister and Mrs. Granger. You were no longer a Bastian. But you were Hermione Jean Granger--and that’s who you always will be. I will no longer be able to help you, as that’s all the information I have. However, Professor Snape will be able to aid you.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up towards her hair line, her fists clenched. “_Snape?_”

“He was there the night we made an Unbreakable Vow.”


	3. 3

The castle was pitch black in the deep caverns, dank and damp smelling. Hermione held out her wand, the tip illuminated, as she stormed down through the dungeons. She was on a mission, her cheeks flushed and her jaw clenched. She stopped abruptly at the door in which Professor Dumbledore had described to her. Onyx wood with dark grey hardware, the entrance to Professor Snape’s private chambers stood towering over the girl, tall enough for even Hagrid to enter. She rapped on the door, the sound echoing down either side of the hallway. 

“Professor?” She called out when there was no answer. Finally, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled, angry man. 

“Would you kindly explain to me why Hermione Granger is standing in my doorway?” He gruffed, scowling. 

“Professor Dumbledore sent me.” 

“He’s quite dead.” Snape shot back, his pale fingers curled around the edge of the door. Hermione narrowed her eyes as she inhaled sharply. 

“You know about my past; my adoption. You were there to witness the Unbreakable Vow that Dumbledore and someone else performed. I need you to tell me about it.” Hermione ordered, crossing her arms roughly over her chest. Her bare arms were chilly in the cool humidity of the dungeon hallway. Inside his chambers, Hermione could hear the crackling of a fire, hoping that she would soon be enjoying its warmth. 

Holding the door wide open, Snape stepped to the side, inviting Hermione inside. “Come in.” He stated begrudgingly. 

The common area of his private rooms was open and wide, a worn leather sofa seated before the fire, a navy blue armchair adjacent to it. A simple wooden coffee table was centered over a sheepskin rug, anchoring the space together. Hermione turned to her left, noticing the small kitchenette, complete with a small stovetop, sink and even a moderately-sized refrigerator. The cabinets contrasted the light stone of the room, black and sleek. 

There were few windows in the room, but the ceilings were high, a large chandelier illuminating every aspect. As Hermione moved to have a seat on the sofa, placing her bag beside her, she inhaled the scent of the room. It smelled of the fire, but also crisp fall leaves and the dampness of the stone. Earthy and honest, Hermione had decided. 

“What else did Dumbledore tell you?” Snape asked, closing the door and making his way across the room. He found a comfortable spot before the fire, leaning himself against the single wood beam mantle. 

“Nothing. I know my mother is Aurelia Bastian. I actually thought my father was the Bastian. But I assume she had me take her name rather than my father’s. But what I can’t understand is why…” She broke off, her mind wandering. 

“I can tell you very little, as I know very little.” 

“Do you know who my father is?” 

Snape sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment and began to shake his head. “No.” 

“I don’t understand… Why didn’t my parents tell me?” Hermione’s eyebrows were folded inward, my lips pouting slightly. Over the last week, her life had completely turned around. Everything she had ever known was a lie. 

“Your parents knew you were a witch when they adopted you. But they didn’t know of the Bastian family’s history… Or their immense power.” Snape rubbed over his cheeks, curling his fingers around his prominent jaw. The girl had not seen him in a year, since he was in the Shrieking Shack, bleeding to death. To her, the man looked considerably better. 

“But to keep it a lie? Am I pure-blooded?” She questioned soberly, shifting uncomfortably in her dress. The fire had warmed her slightly, calming her nerves. Still, her hands shook with the truthful words presented to her. 

“I believe you are. Aurelia did not speak of the father, only that he was not to be meddled with.” Snape looked disdainfully at the girl out of the corner of his eye. It had been four years that he’d vowed to protect her. He knew everything about her, and yet she could never know. She believed that he was nothing more than a former professor, and Harry Potter’s guardian. But, Snape was also hers. He shifted his gaze as she peered up at him through glassy eyes. 

“What was the Unbreakable Vow regarding? Was it with my mother? Did Aurelia have Dumbledore agree to protect me?” 

“What would cause you to think such a thing? No one was sent to protect you. The Unbreakable Vow was about the Marriage Law.” 

“The Marriage Law? What are you talking about?” Hermione questioned, furrowing her brow. She cleared her throat an icy chill settling in her belly. 

“Haven’t you heard the rumors at the Ministry?” She had. There were many, but none were confirmed. Snape faced her fully, pulling his teaching robes across his chest, overlapping the fabric as he crossed his arms. “They’re going to be enacting it. And Dumbledore has always known… He vowed that he would protect Aurelia from your father. And that she would never be forced to marry him with the Marriage Law.” 

Hermione dug her nails into the sofa, squeezing. She knew it. Her mother was afraid of her father--but why? 

“Where is she now? I need to see her.” 

“It’s not possible.” Severus uttered. Hermione climbed to her feet, pulling on her trench coat. She slung her bag over her shoulder, stepping towards the professor. He lifted his head, jutting out his jaw. 

“Why?” 

“Because your mother is dead. She died four years ago, the night the Unbreakable Vow was cast.” 

Hermione felt her knees grow weak, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, grabbing a hold of the professor’s forearm. He lifted her up, manhandling her into the navy armchair. 

“No. It can’t be. I haven’t even met her!” Hermione cried. She jumped to her feet, nearly storming out the door. Instead, she paced past the dining room and kitchen. Outside, rain had begun to fall. It patterned against the windows, crisscrossed with metal inserts. Lightning flashed, brightening the room for a brief moment. Across the room, behind the dining table set a sideboard filled with pictures. Lightning cracked through the sky again and Hermione turned around to look at the photographs to see her mother staring directly at her. 

“She was a friend of mine.” Severus stated, stepping around the leather sofa. He held his arms behind his back, his hands intertwined. 

“You said you didn’t know my father…” Hermione backed away, stumbling over one of the kitchen chairs. She caught herself against the wall, her back erect against the frigid stone. “You were there the night my mother died…. And you said my father shouldn’t be meddled with. Have I meddled with you, professor?” 

Hermione slithered along the wall, her hand reaching into her coat pocket, searching for her wand. She withdrew it sneakily, never taking her eyes off the dark-haired man before her. He towered over her, standing at the opposite end of the table. 

“You’re making a huge mistake, girl.” 

“Expelliarmus!” Hermione cried, extending her arm as she pointed her wand at Professor Snape. He had just lifted his wand arm from behind his back, the wooden object flying out of his hand.

“Just tell me the truth!” Hermione screamed, hurrying around the table to jab the wand under Professor Snape’s chin. He lifted his hands. 

“I’m not your father. So put down the bloody wand!” He roared. Hermione sighed, but withdrew her wand suspiciously. “Accio wand!” Snape shouted, now pointing his wand directly at Hermione. 

“I don’t believe you.”


	4. 4

“You better start, Granger.” 

“Bastian, actually. Don’t forget who I am.” 

“Who you were. I knew your mother well, and she would be ashamed to call you her child.” Snape shot back, his wand still pointed at her. Hermione’s arms were held up in the air in defense. 

“Obviously she was, or else she wouldn’t have given me away.” Hermione argued. The room had grown dark, the fire dying down. The sound of the grandfather clock in the corner echoed off the stone, a signal that nine o’clock was upon them. 

Snape lowered his wand, raising a single eyebrow as he studied Hermione for her next move. “I never heard the story behind your adoption. But I have no doubt that it was with a heavy heart that your mother made her decision.” 

Hermione lifted her jaw pridefully, lowering her arms. In that moment, she realized that Snape couldn’t possibly her father. His nose had too heavy of a hook, the two lines upon his upper lip were too prominent, and his attitude too sulky. His voice had softened, however, and he was speaking to her from the heart. The witch could sense his somber tone as he spoke about her late mother--she believed Aurelia had truly been a friend of Snape’s. 

“Did you know…? Did you know all along who my mother was? My entire life, and you never told me?” Hermione questioned, pulling her coat tighter around her. Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You act as if the news of your having a different biological mother was more important than everything else going on… Perhaps you should remember how many died just a year ago. Including your precious Weasley.” 

Hermione proceeded forward, taking her hand out from beneath her other arm and brought it across Snape’s face. His head turned dramatically, his stringy, shoulder-length hair tossed to the side. He flipped back to face her, his cheek burning scarlet. 

“How dare you,” She started, stepping further towards the professor. She pressed her index finger against his chest, proceeding to shove him back towards the fireplace. They stopped when his back hit the mantle, her eyes wild with the reflection of the fire dancing in them. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him!” She screamed. 

Snape flipped around, pulling the girl away from the fire and shoving her against the stone wall beside it. He pinned her shoulders against the cold rock, his eyes narrowed and his lower teeth exposed as he breathed raggedly. 

“And not a day goes by that I don’t think about your mother.” 

“Is that why you never liked me? Because she was like Lily? Another woman you loved and lost?” Hermione’s voice softened slightly, her fingers curling around the professor’s wrists to pry him off of her. They stood at a distance, both breathing heavily. 

“Your mother was nothing more than a friend to me. I never cared for her as I did Lily. And don’t think that I did.” 

Hermione sighed, moving over to sit back on the sofa once again. “Why did you keep it a secret from me? Just as Dumbledore did?” 

“Because you were never meant to find out.” 

“I need a drink,” Hermione uttered, rubbing her temples. 

“You’re barely old enough to say that.” Snape replied, scowling. 

“Give me a fucking drink.” 

“Tell me about her… What was she like?” Hermione asked, her words slurring together. She was nursing her fifth drink of the night, as was the man sitting across from her on the sofa. Hermione had kicked off her shoes, her feet crossed at the ankle on the leather surface. Surprisingly, they were in Snape’s lap and there was no sign of them moving. He had a sleepy, relaxed smile upon his face when he thought of Aurelia Bastian. 

“Smart. Smarter than you. Quite a know-it-all. And Merlin, did she find trouble. She was always telling me about the latest restricted section book she had found, potions she had discovered. Your mother was a natural potion-maker.” 

Hermione grinned, closing her eyes and imagining her mother in her shoes. 

“Do you… Do you have any memories that I can use in the Pensieve? I’d like to see her.” 

“Maybe another time. I’m too drunk to give you the right ones.” 

“Oh, you’re afraid I’ll see something I’m not supposed to?” Hermione giggled, drawing back her feet and moving to sit closer to the professor. He had removed his teaching robes and unbuttoned the high collar of his jacket. The black neck scarf hung down over his chest, the ugly scar from Voldemort’s attack exposed. 

“Exactly.” 

“Did it hurt terribly?” She asked, her voice no more than a whisper. Hermione was sitting on her feet, her knees bent as she leaned over to inspect Snape’s scar. 

“It was almost as bad as the Cruciatus.” 

“You’ve endured it?” She was shocked, her eyebrows raised. Her hair, smooth from a spell she had learned, fell over her shoulder as she moved in closer. Extending her arm, she barely pressed the pad of her fingers over it before he reached up and snatched her wrist. 

“Please, don’t.” 

But he didn’t let go. He held onto her wrist, bringing her hand close to press his nose against the base of her palm. Hermione closed her eyes, her eyelids fluttering against the tops of her cheeks. Time seemed to freeze for them, the moment hanging in a beautiful suspension above them. 

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. Hermione’s eyes flashed open. “And I have for months.” 

“What?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“When I was dying in the Shrieking Shack, you were there. You, Potter and Weasley. You looked at me with care and concern. And before then, when you were a student in your sixth year… Before everything happened. You were so beautiful and young… You look just like your mother. Her skin was dark like yours, smooth like a canvas. I’ve always wanted to touch it… But I was so afraid.” 

“Afraid?” 

The fire had died, and there was nothing but darkness between them. Neither of the pair had moved to light a candle, but remained frozen in their close reach. 

“Afraid that you would be disgusted by me.” 

“Disgusted by you?!” Hermione exclaimed, reaching out and placing her palm against his cheek. “I misunderstood you, for years. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned so much about you… Your bravery and your true love and concern for Harry. You were so good to him. And I’ll be forever grateful to you for that.” 

Her lips pressed against his, warm and wet. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love comments!


	5. 5

Rain pattered against the window, a bleak, dreary morning outside of the castle. Hermione awoke, her body strewn across the sofa. Her dress was missing, the girl wearing only her pale pink bra and matching lace panties. A scratchy wool blanket was wrapped around her and she clutched it to her. Sitting up, she moved a section of hair from her face, looking around.

At the breakfast table, Severus Snape sat with a cup of tea and the Daily Prophet newspaper beneath his nose. He glanced up and gave a tight smile.

“Hello Granger,” he uttered, sipping his tea.

“What happened? Did we… Did we?”

“No. What happened is that you drank far too much, vomited all over your dress and passed out on my sofa. Therefore, I summoned the house elf to clean your dress and left you to sleep off the alcohol.”

Hermione pulled the blanket around herself tighter, shivering in her lack of clothing. Snape was dressed in his traditional uniform, down to his boots. Hermione blinked twice, clearing the sleep from her eyes. She couldn’t understand it. The last thing she remembered was kissing the man.

“Um… Last night you told me how you felt about me… And then we kissed.” Hermione stood, wrapping the blanket around her. Snape folded the newspaper in half, his eyes shifting over to her lazily.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I do advise you to stop drinking.”

“What did you do last night? Where did you sleep?” Hermione questioned incessantly. She was surprised a moment later by the arrival of her dress and trench coat from the house elf, Polly.

“I had two glasses of whiskey and then proceeded to go to sleep in my own bed. It wasn’t until this morning that I found that you’d been ill in the night.”

Hermione blushed violently, turning away for a moment to compose herself. When she faced him again, he was standing and pouring another cup of tea.

“Do you mind if I borrow your bedroom for a moment to get dressed?”

“Are you embarrassed to be indecent before me? Your body does nothing for me, and I saw it earlier when I undressed you.” He glanced over his shoulder to fire the words at her.

“You don’t have to be rude about it,” the girl huffed, dropping the blanket and stepping into her dress to zip it at the back. She then pulled on the trench coat and slipped on her patent leather nude pumps. “Thank you for the information. Here’s my address in case you have some information that could be of use to me in the search for my father.”

“Did I not make it clear enough last night?” Snape slammed his cup of tea down on the counter and stormed over to the girl. Hermione stood her ground, her arm still extended with a crumpled piece of parchment containing her address.

“Regardless of what you believe about my father, I set to find out the truth. Now, you can either help me, or not. But the last thing I will allow is any interference. You and others have hidden this from me my entire life and I won’t tolerate anymore secrets.” She grabbed Snape’s wrist, turning his hand over to slap the address into his palm.

“There’s a reason Aurelia didn’t tell me who your father was. Because he’s dangerous.”

“Now I think you just don’t want me to go digging around. Are you afraid what I’ll find? Maybe something from your own past that I might stumble upon. Like your secret feelings for her.”

Hermione turned on her heel, picking up her handbag at the end of the sofa, slinging it onto her forearm. The witch’s shoes clacked against the stone floor as she approached the door. Snape growled, marching to slam the door shut as soon as Hermione had opened it.

“If you do this, you’ll be making a massive mistake. Haven’t you learned from all of your past experiments not to fuck around in things that you shouldn’t?”

“And yet here I am, alive and well. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it has yet to defeat me.”

* * *

“You left her alone with Albus!?” Severus Snape roared, storming into Minerva McGonagall’s office. She looked up over her half-rim glasses, intertwining her fingers together as she sat her hands on the top of her desk.

“Is there a problem?” She asked, her voice thick with annoyance. It was never a pleasant experience when Snape pushed his way into her office.

“She knows! She knows about the adoption and it won’t be long until she figures out who her father is. She cannot know. It will ruin her.”

Minerva climbed to her feet, moving close to Severus. He leaned against a column for support. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a pained expression upon his face. The headmistress leaned in, placing a hand on his forearm. “Do we need to call the Minister? Enact the law?”

“If word gets out that her father is… Well, who he is, then it could bring about a great disaster. I’ve failed her.”

“No, hush,” Minerva reassured the wizard. “Tell me exactly what she knows.”

“That Aurelia Bastian is her mother. Her bloody muggle parents left the adoption form lying around. It should have been destroyed!”

“Albus kept the document in case Hermione ever needed protection.” Minerva responded, her hands clasped before her waist.

“But I was supposed to protect her from all of this. Not only did I promise Aurelia before the child was born, you were there the night Albus and I made the Unbreakable Vow.” Snape’s mind wandered to the previous night, in which he had kissed the young woman. He had lied to her more times than he could count, but it was all to protect her. She had to be protected, no matter what. He glanced around the room, his eyes falling to a comfortable armchair, suddenly whisked back in time.

* * *

“Aurelia, it’s not too late. There’s ways you can end it,” Severus had told her, his hands on either side of her arms. The witch shook her head defiantly, her eyes shooting over to Albus Dumbledore.

“She’s right, Severus. The child shall be born. It’s what is meant to be; it could be an incredible asset to the wizarding world.”

Snape rolled his eyes, his nostrils flaring. “Always thinking about the wizarding world, and not the smaller globe around you. Does he know…? The father?”

Aurelia, who had moved to sit the leather armchair, again shook her head. “He has no idea. I’ve hidden myself from the outside world… Which is why I’ve come here. You can protect me, can’t you, Severus? Let me stay with you. Your house is safe.”

Severus studied her for a moment, his eyes caressing her gentle features. Her hair, black as the night sky, cascaded down her back in soft ringlets. Her eyes were set close together, her iris’ a warm golden chocolate. With high cheekbones that curved down like curtains around her lips, she could smile and light up a room. Brilliant white teeth that were almost too big for her mouth and prominent eyebrows for her dark skin. There was a simple beauty about her, a glow from within.

“I will do whatever it takes to keep you and your child safe.” Severus replied, glancing up from Aurelia to Albus and nodding his head firmly.

* * *

“But she has no idea who the father is? Does she have any clue? Hermione is a very bright girl.” Minerva stated.

Severus, still perched against the column, shook his head. His face had grown white; he was feeling a bit peaky. “I told her I didn’t know anything… She does know about the Vow. Except that she believes it was about her mother and the Marriage Law.”

“You’re saying we need to notify the Ministry? It needs to be enacted?”

“It may be my only way to protect her and keep an eye on her. I did my best to deter her from looking for him, but she’s hellbent, Minerva. There was nothing for me to say, nothing for me to do.” Severus’s mind wandered to the mistake he made the night before, letting the girl in and seeing his true feelings. He had suppressed them for so long, for both her mother and for her. It was like he was feeling for Lily and her death as well as Aurelia’s. How could have been so foolish?

“Very well then. I’ll notify Matilda.”


	6. 6

Monday arrived with more dreary rain, Hermione found. She was perched at her desk, her quill scribbling away on parchment when a knock on her office door broke her attention. Sitting upright, she then came to her feet and went to greet her visitor. 

“Minister!” Hermione exclaimed, opening the door at once, holding it open and extending her arm to let the woman in. 

Minister Matilda Mahon was a petite woman, round like a cherry tomato. As well, her face was scarlet like one as well. Hermione knew that while the woman looked red from anger, it wasn’t so. The woman’s face was the color due to a lack of a healthy lifestyle. Each day the Minister wore a different colored suit, complete with matching shoes. Hermione was thrilled by the variety of character in just one person. 

“Thank you, dear,” the woman helped herself by plopping herself down in a simple chair in front of Hermione’s desk. “We will have another visitor join us shortly. But first, this is not a matter of your work. Your work is outstanding and the Ministry has been thrilled with your work… At least what we know of it.” 

Hermione grinned uncomfortably, knowing full well that the minister had absolutely no idea what the girl was doing. Just as the younger witch was lowering herself into her desk chair, the door to her office opened slightly and a black figure swooped into the space. 

“You of course, know Severus?” Minister Matilda asked, pinching her lips together in a pert smile. Hermione nodded slowly, growing suspicious. 

“I know the professor quite well. What is he doing here?” 

Professor Snape stepped forward, closing the door behind him, narrowing his eyes at the girl. He clasped his hands together at his waist. 

“Today, you’re going to hear the announcement that the Ministry has passed a new law. It’s a Marriage Law, and-” 

“A what?!” Hermione shrieked, her eyebrows shooting upwards. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk, palms damp with sweat. “I thought that was abolished years ago! It didn’t work--no one was happy and the population wasn’t increased!” 

The minister’s eyes were wide, her mouth stuck in an uncomfortable smile. She slid a hand across the desk and placed it on top of Hermione’s, reassuringly. “After the last war, people are hesitant to have more children. There is still much turmoil. Therefore, the Ministry has passed a law, matching a witch and a wizard together in hopes that at least one child will be produced.” 

“B-b-but that’s absurd! It’s not possible to match two random wizards and hope that they’ll like each other enough to make a child. Wait… You… You haven’t explained why the professor is here?” Hermione felt a lump grow in her throat, her chest thumping rapidly. Snape exhaled with annoyance. 

“We’ve been matched.” 

“Based on what criteria? I read that the last Marriage Law was formed with compatibility in mind!” Hermione’s voice was still raised, not only in volume, but pitch as well. Snape did not move, instead he froze in his spot before the door. Hermione secretly hoped he would dart and run; he stayed. “Why is no one else in this room concerned. You certainly don’t want to be married to me!” Hermione cried. 

Snape shrugged his shoulders while simultaneously raising a single eyebrow. The Minister stood quickly, surprising the younger witch. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. You have a month to get married.” 

The dark-skinned witch sputtered, climbing to her feet to chase after the Minister. Just as she reached the door to hurry out into the hallway, it was slammed and Snape had her alone. Stumbling backwards, the witch put her hands on her hips and stood firmly before the man. 

“I will not marry you. They can’t force us.” 

“Oh, would you rather risk the punishment? I heard it wasn’t as bad as Azkaban, but I do understand your magic is reduced to the rudimentary spells.” Snape replied nonchalantly, again shrugging his shoulders. Hermione noticed that as he moved, a strong scent wafted off of him. He smelled richly of himself, but also the crisp, cool tang of cologne. It was far too clean to belong to him, but surely it was. Hermione then realized; he had put on cologne for her, and for her because he knew about this. 

“Did you know before?” 

“Before?” Snape clarified, furrowing his brow. 

“You knew. That the marriage law was going to pass. And that we were matched--did you know on Saturday?” 

She could feel the heat in her body rise, boiling up from her kneecaps. Hermione lowered her hands to her side, clenching them strongly into fists. The air in her office had stopped moving and it had grown to be muggy. Beads of sweat dappled Snape’s exposed forehead, his long hair swept back from it. 

“My knowing the arrangement doesn’t change it.” 

“What about what happened Saturday night? You said absolutely nothing happened, but I remember…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes closed for a brief moment when she remembered the way his touch felt against her skin. 

“What do you remember? I remember how you had vomit all over yourself from drinking in excess.” He snapped, dropping his hands and stepping forward. His eyes were slitted and black, just as Hermione remembered from her school days. 

“I remember you telling me just how much I reminded you of my mother… And then you touched me.” 

Severus retracted, inhaling as his mouth formed a snarl. “I did no such thing.” 

“Why are you denying it? Just admit it! You thought I was my mother… That’s why you kissed me. You’re so scared to be honest. If we’re to be married, you cannot build a foundation of lies. It won’t work… You’ll tear me apart.” 

“I could care less what my private life will do to you. What is my business is my business, you should know that by now.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, tossing her head back in laughter. “You are such a child. You were afraid to tell my mother how you really felt, just like you never told Lily. And now they’re both dead!” She yelled.

“You don’t know anything!” Severus stormed forward and extended his arms, shoving the girl at her shoulders. She plummeted backwards, sweeping her arm across the surface of her desk, bringing down the contents with her. Her body knocked against the wall at her back, her head bouncing off of the sheetrock. Tears welled in her eyes and she bit her lip to fight back the sobs. Severus was wild with fury, his whole body trembling.

“With that, you’ve shown me more than you could ever tell.” 

Severus’ face softened with the realization of his actions. He immediately leaned over to help her up. 

“Don’t touch me!” She cried, batting away his outstretched hands. 

Hermione climbed to her feet, rubbing the back of her head. She steadied herself against the desk, leaning over to pick up her broken desk lamp. Severus hovered uncomfortably before her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

“Never provoke me again.” He huffed, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.


	7. 7

“Do you take this wizard to be your magically-wed husband?” Matilda asked Hermione, the young woman somber as she avoided eye contact with the man across from her.

“I… I do.” She hesitated for a brief moment, but proceeded.

It was never supposed to happen that way--she knew it. Marriage was a beautiful exchange of vows of love to one another. But, with Ron dead, there was no other potential suitor for the young witch. Hermione stood straighter, her hair pinned back into a chignon at the back of her head. Elegantly dressed, the witch wore a long-sleeved satin ivory dress, paired with nude pumps. Snape wore his traditional black uniform, except he had made the effort to brush his thick, shoulder-length raven hair. Evening sunlight poured into the room, a simple empty space at the Ministry. Hermione had no desire to involve anyone, but a single witness was necessary, so, enter Harry Potter.

The young man stood beside the Minister of Magic, dressed nicely in a navy blue suit and patterned plaid tie. Harry wore his same spectacles, however, a new crack was crossing the left lens. He had blamed it on one of his recent trips to Romania, on special Auror business. Standing with his hands clasped at his waist, he smiled as Hermione’s eyes shifted up towards him. There was no music at the wedding, no flowers, no happiness. There was emptiness, and absolutely no love radiating around the foursome.

Severus Snape stared at Hermione, despite her lack of eye contact. Her olive-toned skin glimmered in the late September sunlight, just as her mother’s had. As he repeated after the minister, Hermione’s eyes betrayed herself, the hazel iris’ glowing as she met his gaze.

“You are now wizard and wife. Please place your palms together as you seal the wedding spell with a kiss.”

Hermione, with a tremble, raised her hands to place them against Severus’. She found them worn with calluses; his eyes met hers as matching gold wedding bands began to appear on their left hands. As soon as the wedding band was solid around her finger, Hermione picked up the skirt of her dress, darting out and disapparating as soon as the door shut.

* * *

Her apartment was small, but adequate enough for Hermione. It was on the eighth floor of the building and had a decent view from her balcony. Plants sat outside, collecting the rain falling, soaking the water into their dark soil. Cars passed stories below, their noises bouncing off the buildings to enter into her open window. The witch sat before her fireplace, her palms flat towards the flames. 

“You’re going to have to talk… Eventually.” Severus had apparated into her apartment, standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jacket. Reaching up, he began to loosen the scarf at his neck, letting it hang down over his chest.

“No, I don’t. That’s not a requirement of the law.”

“Touche.”

“So, please leave.” Hermione ordered, turning her hands about. One shoulder of her gown had slipped off, exposing her bony shoulder. Severus sighed heavily in response.

“You know I can’t do that. We’re married now. I can’t very well leave. Especially on our wedding night.”

“Well, I’m not fucking you, if that’s what you’re waiting for.” She spat, then immediately covered her mouth. She flipped around, gasping. “I’m so sorry. That was horrible of me.”

Severus moved around the sofa, withdrawing his necktie from his collar as he sat down in the loveseat. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking it out afterwards. There were bags beneath his eyes, the stress of the day finally catching up to him.

“It’s going to have to happen eventually.”

“Does it have to happen tonight?” Hermione inquired, swiveling around in her dress. Pulling her knees to her chest, she rested her chin on them as she peered up at the man upon her sofa.

“No.”

“But it must be done weekly, correct? In order to produce a child?”

“We have up to a year to conceive. Needless to say, we will… Use contraceptive.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione groaned, climbing to her feet. “I’m off to bed. Tonight we’ll sleep here. Then, tomorrow, we’ll look for a place of our own.”

“Our own?” Severus questioned, furrowing his brow.

“We aren’t staying in your dungeons!” The girl exclaimed, padding off into her bedroom, her voice echoing.

Severus sat with his elbows resting on his thighs, his legs spread widely as he hung his head low with defeat. “They aren’t dungeons,” he gruffed.

“They’re dark and dingy. If we’re going to be married I want a place with a little sunlight. Preferably someplace not at Hogwarts.” She shouted from her bedroom.

“That’s out of the question.” He replied, pinching the narrow bridge of his nose. Hermione reappeared in the living room, dressed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and Hogwarts sweatshirt. Her hair was swept up into a bun, a few lost tendrils framing her face.

“Severus,” She froze briefly. His name tasted bitter on her tongue. “I don’t want to live at Hogwarts. And I know you don’t want to live in this flat. We should move to a place where we’re both comfortable.” Hermione urged, her eyebrows raised with a plea.

“As your husband, I will not allow such a thing. We will live under the protection of the school. Do not bring it up again!” He roared, jumping up to his feet to cloud over the girl.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, one hand on her hip. She turned on her heel, walking out of the living room and down the narrow hall. Taking a sharp left, she burst into her kitchen and waved her wand. The tea kettle floated in the air, filling itself with water and popping onto the stovetop. Hermione swiveled around, her head peeking into the open refrigerator. She withdrew a small container of cream, setting it on the counter. As she stood with her bum against the counter and her arms crossed over her chest, she fought back tears.

Would there be an argument every night? Hermione couldn’t stand it, she had to find a way out of the marriage. There couldn’t possibly be anything worse than being married to Severus Snape. Her job at the Ministry had offered her no comfort, her daily assignments boring and unfulfilling.

The tea kettle rang shrilly in her ears and she flicked her wand to bring it over and pour into the mugs had set out on the counter.

“What are you doing?” Severus poked his abnormally large nose into the kitchen, his slitted eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

“Making tea…?” She was in the process of stirring in her cream and sugar when he stepped in further. He saw there was a second mug and proceeded to help himself. Hermione handed over the cup of sugar, their fingers brushing against one another. She immediately dropped her hand, shivering at his touch; the witch took a sip of her tea and tried to ignore the intimate moment between them.

“Now,” she began, looking up from her tea matter-of-factly. “I’m going to bed. You can either sleep on the floor or you can materialize a mattress of some sort. But the rule is that we sleep under the same roof. And I’m not going back to fucking Hogwarts.”


End file.
